


The Great Divide

by angsty_nerd



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background: high school Liz/Kyle, F/M, High School Era AU, Jim & Max parental, Max & Kyle brothers, Max Valenti
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:20:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28476075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angsty_nerd/pseuds/angsty_nerd
Summary: What if the Evans walked into the group home a moment earlier and saw Max screaming and drawing on the walls? An AU high school era fic, in which Max was the one left behind instead of Michael.
Relationships: Max Evans/Liz Ortecho
Comments: 31
Kudos: 22





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maxortecho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maxortecho/gifts).



> I’m writing this for the lovely and wonderful MaxOrtecho, one of the only people I know who loves Max Evans as much as I do. We had a good scream over this idea after 2x09 aired and I’m super excited to finally be writing it!! So...surprise, Mo! I hope you enjoy the start of what will be a long-term secret santa gift!!
> 
> Many thanks to Wunderlass for doing a quick beta job on this for me!!

_ The great divide, a stitch in time _

_ Then we recombine, the way it was _

_ Dust to dust has led us here to collide _

_ Love of mine, bright as the star shines _

_ Into the night, changing our whole lives _

_ You trace the lines through space and time _

_ Until you find they all align _

_ ~The Shins _

Max's heart was thumping in his chest, a steady hammering of anticipation. He paused in the hallway outside of the classroom, taking note of the hairs tingling on his arms, a sure sign of him being on the verge of losing control. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, trying to steady himself before walking into the biology lab.

Biology. It was the class that he loved the most, but it was also the one that stressed him out the most. And it was all because of her.

Liz Ortecho was already in her seat when he walked in the door, her nose crammed inside the textbook. But there was sunlight streaming through the window beside her, an aura of light surrounding her and giving her an almost unearthly glow. 

She was a vision.

He swallowed nervously. His heart was a wasteland and she was its master. And she didn't even know it. She couldn't ever know it.

He didn't know why he even bothered trying to steady himself. Control around her was pretty much impossible.

He made his way to the empty chair beside her, dropping his backpack to the floor.

"Hey Liz," he greeted her, hoping his voice didn't sound as overly eager as he felt, just sitting beside her.

"Max!"

Liz looked up at him, startled. She hadn't heard him approach because she was buried in the next day's assignment. God forbid she procrastinate or fall behind her typical pace ahead of the rest of the class. She really was a borderline genius. Max loved that about her. There was a lot that he loved about her.

Once he was sitting, she closed the book and pushed it aside, turning her attention onto him.

"I didn't see you in the cafeteria at lunch time. They announced the prom theme! Tickets go on sale tomorrow. Are you gonna ask Tess? Everyone knows she likes you," she frowned suddenly, her eyes narrowing. Max just stared dumbly at her trying to figure out how to answer, given that the only girl he wanted to take to prom was the one asking the question.

"You've got hot sauce…" Liz gestured at his face, but Max was trying to process the first question she asked him, so when he didn't immediately react she insisted, "Here, let me get it..."

It was like the world went into slow motion. Alarm bells were ringing in his head as she reached towards him. He wanted to shout for her to stop, but his brain completely froze. His world had narrowed to her hand reaching for his face. His heart was racing again, and he had completely stopped breathing.

And then, her finger swept across his lower lip...her touch was soft and gentle…but he felt like a current of electricity surged through his entire body. He trembled, and there was a powerful release from inside his mind…

The light flickered. There was an audible crack as the neon light rods shattered in their plastic cases above. 

The room went dark.

Kyle's football buddies erupted with jeers and applause. Distantly, Max realized that the teacher was trying to get the class under control, but all he wanted to do was run and hide. Or die right there. One of the two.

Instead he just sat there, trying desperately to remember how to breathe. Thankfully, Liz's attention had shifted to the new situation. Max just tried not to panic or call attention to himself, while Liz rushed up to the teacher's desk and volunteered to go check in at the office.

She returned a few minutes later and went straight to speak to the teacher, who, after consulting with Liz, stood to make an announcement to the class.

"The entire school's power is out, so class is cancelled for today. Go straight home, everyone. The office will be notifying your parents."

As he grabbed his backpack Max honestly wondered if there was a cave with a space heater that he could move into. His life might depend on it. Because, once his parents heard about this, his dad was definitely going to kill him.

He slumped his shoulders and made his way into the crowded hallway with the rest of the class. As he turned to head towards the doors, he looked up just in time to see Liz bounce up to her boyfriend and kiss him.

Another stab into his wasted heart.

Kyle Valenti, football captain and king of the West Roswell High School jock brigade, broke out of the short greeting, and looked over Liz's head at Max.

"Hey Max, I'm sticking around for practice, okay?"

"Yeah, all good," Max replied.

"Awesome, see you later."

Max shook his head and turned to the double doors that led out to the street. Roswell was a small town after all. It was just a short walk home. Plenty of time for him to brood about how humiliating it was that all Liz had to do was touch his lips, and he blew out the power to the entire school. 

She was probably better off dating Kyle. Kyle was the normal one. Kyle's hormones were less likely to cause her harm, or ruin her education. 

Kyle was safe.

Max trudged his way down the street, hands shoved deep in his pockets, brooding over the mess that his life had become.

Being a secret teenage alien in Roswell, New Mexico completely sucked.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Max had heard the story hundreds of times, from different perspectives. He could recite his mom's version, his dad's, Kyle's. All of their memories were clearer than his.

It was strange, having an origin story that everyone remembered except for him.

It went like this.

A long haul trucker found three kids wandering out in the desert. They were naked, mute, alone. The trucker radioed in an SOS call, and a half hour later, Chaves County Sheriff's Deputy Michelle Valenti pulled up in her cruiser. She loaded the kids into the backseat of the car, took the trucker's statement, and sent him on his way. The kids came back to the station with her.

She stopped and picked up some clothes from her own home. After all, the kids looked about the same size and age of her boy, Kyle. She fed them and clothed them and called Child Protective Services. Deputy Valenti watched over them that night and swore she wouldn't get attached, even as the rage built up inside of her that some scumbag dumped these kids, helpless and alone, in the middle of the desert to die.

The three kids stuck to each other like glue as they were processed by Chaves County and sent to a group home. Michelle visited them almost every day. She told herself it was her job, her case to solve. Maybe they would start to speak. Maybe they'd remember something that would help her find the perp. But it was as if they had never spoken a day in their lives. 

Aside from the lack of language development, two of the three kids seemed to be adjusting relatively well. The girl and the boy with the mop of curls seemed to enjoy playing with the toys the home provided. But the third child, the dark-haired boy...he seemed to be constantly on edge. He would sit in the corner, his arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth and not responding to any efforts to aid him. The social worker at the group home told Michelle that he seemed to have bad dreams. He slept fitfully, and often woke up screaming. His behavior seemed to scare the other children sometimes. Although the other two both made silent efforts to try to calm him down, while they still could, it never seemed to help. 

The other two didn't last long in the group home. Their story was on the front page of the newspaper, as the County tried desperately to figure out where the kids belonged. It was soon clear that no one was coming for them, so on the first day that they were officially up for adoption, Ann and Dave Evans showed up to meet them.

Unfortunately their timing was terrible. Michelle arrived at the same time as them, and they walked into the group home together only to be startled by the sound of high pitch screaming. The little dark boy had an red crayon in his hand, and was screaming and drawing all over the walls, the same doodle, scribbled over and over again. The girl was holding her head, crying, scared. As the Evans walked in, they all watched the little curly hair boy, who moments before had been holding his crying sister, stand and walk to the other boy and grab the crayon from his hand. He pushed the boy over towards the girl, and the boy sat, head in hands, as the girl tried to calm him down.

A few hours later, the Evans' were filling out adoption paperwork for the girl and the curly haired boy. They took the two home with them for good a week later, leaving the dark haired boy alone, crying, lost in whatever hidden trauma was playing out inside his mind.

His behavior scared off other interested parents. Weeks passed, and soon the County started to discuss sending him into the system.

Michelle tried to imagine what it would be like for the poor kid, already an emotional mess at such a young age, bouncing around from home to home. How would he cope if no one wanted to keep him? His behavioral problems would only get worse without proper care and support.

For months she had sworn over and over again that she wouldn't get attached. Until the day that Max came home with her.

Of course, that was his mom's version of the story. His dad's was different.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Max had only been walking for about 10 minutes when he heard the short wail of a police siren. The police cruiser pulled up beside him. The passenger side window rolled down and the Sheriff greeted him.

"Max. Get in."

He sighed and did as directed. At least he was in the front seat. It was when the sheriff directed him to get in back that he knew he was  _ really _ in trouble.

"Dad,” Max acknowledged with a nod once he was in the car and belted in.

Sheriff Valenti was a stern-looking Latino, middle-aged and clean cut, his uniform pressed and the star shining on his chest. He ensured that his appearance was well maintained whenever he was in public. After all, he was an elected official. The latest Sheriff Valenti, like his father before him. Only the respect gained from his family legacy ensured that the conservative, white cowboys and farmers looked past the color of his skin to allow him to maintain his position as Sheriff of Chaves County.

But all of that was his surface appearance, his reputation in the community. Max knew his adoptive father as a good man; his role model and closest confidant. He had demons in his past, sparingly referred to as a lesson to his two sons, but he had overcome the challenges of his past and was stronger for it now.

Jim Valenti was the only person Max could talk to at times like this. And while his father would chastise him for losing control, Max knew that he would do anything in his power to help.

Jim drove them to the outskirts of town, past the city welcome sign, and out into the barren desert. Only then did he switch off the dispatch radio and speak.

"You lost control."

Max just nodded silently in response.

"The entire school…you know every single lightbulb on that campus shattered? They sent y'all home because they needed the time to change all the bulbs and clean up the glass? You caused quite the mess today, Max. What happened?"

"It's so embarrassing...please don't make me tell you…"

"Max...you know I need to know. We have to try to keep it from happening again. I can only help you if I know everything. Was it Liz again?"

Max kicked at the floor of the car in frustration. "Yeah. She…she wiped hot sauce off my lips. And I just...lost it."

There was a long moment of silence, and then the sheriff just threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh son, you're hopeless."

"I'm a disaster," Max cried. 

Jim pulled the cruiser off the highway onto a rough dirt road. They slowly rolled through the desert until they reached a clearing, out of sight of the highway. He stopped the car, threw it into park, and they got out and started walking. 

"Max, what did I tell you 10 years ago, when we first took you in?"

"You told me you would help me hide in plain sight, control my powers, so that maybe I can live a normal life."

"Exactly. We're probably never going to know exactly what happened to you when you were a kid, but whatever it was, it left trauma in your psyche that manifests in an inability to control your powers when you get emotional. So we need to ensure that you recognize when you're starting to lose control…"

"...and that I have techniques in place to regain control. I know, Dad. I did everything I'm supposed to do today before walking into class. But none of it prepared me for…" Max stammered and swallowed, feeling a flush rising in his face, "...for...for her to touch me like that."

"Well, you know what that means, Max."

"More training. More practice."

Jim glanced at his watch. "I've got an hour or so until they need me back at the station."

They made their way around the rocky cliffside to a small crevasse that was shielded from any onlookers. There was a narrow opening between the rocks that both Max and his father slipped through with a practiced ease. The gap widened once inside, a slot canyon with sheer walls winding through the earth. 

There were rocks and boulders littered all throughout the canyon, haphazardly laying wherever they landed during the flash floods that came with the monsoons in the summertime. The rocks were a naturally regenerating resource for Max to use in his exercises, which was evident by the formations scattered all throughout the canyon.

Stacked rock sculptures ranging in size from a handful of small stones to boulders the size of a Volkswagen. They were along the edges of the canyon walls, on the cliffs and outcroppings of rocks. Some were balanced in ways that seemed beyond the laws of gravity, fused together with the might of Max's unearthly powers. He had yet to find a rock that defied his will.

"You ready?" Jim asked him. Max nodded in response. "Then let's go. You know how to start. Step one."

Max closed his eyes and took slow, even breaths, until his heart rate was steady.

"I want to change and I am capable of maintaining my control," Max recited.

"Yes, you can," Jim coached. "Step two?"

Max gathered his energy, feeling his power building within him, like he was a battery, the electrical charge surging into him.

"I can control my power. The urge to expel the energy does not define me," Max repeated the familiar words back to his father. He opened his eyes and focused on a rock a few dozen feet away. The rock rose in the air, lightly traveling upwards until Max lightly rested it onto one of his previous formations. 

"Step three," Jim ordered.

"I am capable of managing my thoughts and feelings in an effective way without losing control," Max quoted. 

"The big one, Max," Jim insisted.

Max took a deep breath and focused his energy on the largest boulder in the canyon. It was at least twice Max's height, and easily would require explosives to break into pieces to move by any human means. Max centered his energy around the boulder, feeling with practiced control as it wrapped around the enormous stone, slipping between the impossibly tiny space between the rock and the earth below. 

He pointed his hand at the boulder and grunted with the effort as he pulled his energy upwards. His hand was shaking from the effort, but he stayed focused, his attention fully on the task at hand, as slowly the boulder lifted into the air, at first just a few hesitant centimeters. Max growled and the centimeters lengthened into a few inches. He cried out from the effort of it, and then the boulder was floating a foot off of the ground. 

Sweat was pouring down his forehead, as he pushed the energy to the side, the boulder slowly traveling a few feet to the side, to the edge of the canyon wall. Only then, did Max release the boulder. The earth shook as it landed, and a few stray rocks slipped from their perches on the canyon walls, falling and cracking loudly on the ground below.

"Good…" Jim softly coaxed, "Good work, son. Now...Step 4."

"I can control my powers and live a balanced, healthy life," Max gasped out, breathless from the effort of his task.

"Good," Jim repeated, soothingly, as he walked up to Max and clasped his shoulder supportively. "I believe in you, Max. I believe that you're capable of mastering this. You're stronger than whatever happened in your past."

"Thanks, dad. Thank you for everything."

“Of course, Max. I love you, son."

Jim kept a steadying hand on Max's shoulder as he guided his son back towards the entrance of the canyon, and the path back to his patrol car.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Jim’s version of the story was different from Michelle’s, of course. He never went to see the kids at the group home like Michelle did. He had a lot on his plate, being the Sheriff and all, and he had long since learned that if he let Michelle work autonomously, it was better for their already rocky relationship when they went home at night.

She gave him daily reports on the status of the kids and the investigation into who left them out there, naked and alone. There was a list of suspicious persons that she was swiftly making her way through, trying to find the guilty party to arrest. None of her efforts panned out. After all, they didn't have a single true lead. Only a list of generally suspicious persons who spent time in that part of the desert.

He could tell that the case was getting to her. She was in part working hard, staying late into the night at the station. And she wasn’t getting anywhere. But all of her report outs were incredibly professional, emotionally distant. Jim had no idea that she had gotten too close. Until the day that she brought the kid home.

They sent the silent, dark-haired boy into Kyle's room with strict instructions to Kyle to play with the kid and keep an eye on him, while they had a serious discussion behind closed doors.

"We can't do this, Michelle. What are we gonna do with another kid?"

"We can, Jim. He's about Kyle's age, we think. They'll go to school together. He needs support. He's been through an incredible trauma, and as if being abandoned in the desert isn't bad enough alone, the other kids were adopted and he wasn't. He's got nobody. And… I don't know, Jim. There's something about him. I couldn't just leave him at the mercy of the system."

"You sound like you've already made up your mind."

"At least if we take him in we can make sure he gets therapy. With us he can get the tools he'll need to cope with his anger. We can make sure that he's raised to be a good person. To contribute to our community in a positive way. If he ends up in foster homes, he...he'll likely never learn to control himself. Please, Jim."

Jim met his wife's pleading eyes. Serious and silent, he turned his back on her and left the room. He could hear Kyle's voice almost immediately when he left the bedroom. Jim crossed the house and poked his head into his son's room. 

The two boys were sitting there beside each other on the floor, leaning back against the bedframe. Kyle had the TV on, and the familiar Mario music was playing softly. Kyle was rambling away, trying to explain the game to the other boy who sat there silently watching as Kyle played. The kid looked calm, focused. Kyle seemed content.

Jim turned back to his wife. 

"Yeah, okay. He can stay."

Of course, that was the version of the story that Jim told in front of Michelle and Kyle. That was the version that the public heard about.

Jim had another version of the story. One that didn't come up at the dinner table. 

Jim's other version of the story he saved for Max's ears alone.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Max felt more centered than he had in ages. 

He didn't really understand his powers. He didn't know what caused them, or the extent of what he was capable of. But one thing he had figured out over the years, with his father's help, is that the energy seemed to build like pressure on a fault line. If the tension wasn't released now and then in a purposeful manner, there'd eventually be an uncontrollable burst—like the power outage in the bio lab.

He wondered sometimes if the Evans twins had similar issues. Max wanted to ask them, to find out how they coped with their abilities, but they always seemed skittish around him—like they were worried that he would somehow expose them. Because he was the adoptive son of the county sheriff, Max assumed. Michael was cold and suspicious of him whenever they were forced to interact, while Isobel just seemed disinterested in his general existence. So they kept their distance from Max, and he let it be, staying away from the only two people who could possibly relate to what he was going through.

Between the power outage, and the following exercises with his father out in the desert, Max didn't feel the unspent energy that came with his control issues for weeks. So he went back to his normal routine. He stayed under the radar, going to school and reading his Shakespeare and Dostoevsky. Max studied and wrote vague journal entries about his existential angst and heartbreak. He spent weekends helping his dad around the house, or making tamales with Kyle and their Mom for Kyle’s team fundraisers. He helped Kyle with his college application essays, while planning an eternal uneventful future for himself, sticking close to home and joining the Academy—following in his dad’s footsteps.

And Kyle just kept on dating Liz.

Max still struggled through his feelings about their relationship. He had loved Liz since the day he met her. Other than his family, she was the only person who ever made him feel like he belonged. The day that Kyle asked her out was like a chasm in the Valenti brothers’ relationship. They had never really talked about Liz and  _ feelings _ , but Kyle had to know how Max felt about her, didn’t he? 

If he didn't, then Max had no idea how to tell him now.

The day that Max met Liz Ortecho, during recess on his first day of school, was one of the most formative days of Max’s life. He still remembered feeling scared and alone that day. He was just barely speaking any English, but his parents felt like it was time to start socializing him by sending him to school. 

That day, Kyle had almost immediately abandoned Max for the company of his childhood best friend, Alex Manes. So Max hid under the jungle gym and watched while his brother played tetherball with Alex on the other side of the schoolyard. He was sad, scared, and lonely when Liz Ortecho spotted him, sat down beside him, and stuck an earbud into his ear. 

As the music she shared poured into his soul, he smiled shyly at her. When she smiled back at him, her smile, her kindness, her music…it was the most beautiful thing he had ever felt and in that moment he handed her his heart and soul to keep. And to this day, ten years later, he had never retrieved it from her. Even if she had no idea how firmly she held it.

And so, while he went about his normal routine, he lived with a constant dull ache in his gut, watching from the shadows while his brother paraded around with the girl that owned Max's heart on his arm.

It was a warm spring afternoon, and he was walking home from the library, his nose buried in a copy of Hamlet. His AP English teacher was quizzing the entire class on their ability to memorize the  _ To Be or Not To Be _ soliloquy, so as he walked he repeated lines back to himself, trying to permanently etch the words into his brain.

_ "...For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, _

_ Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, _

_ The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay…"  _

He was mumbling under his breath as he walked up the driveway, completely focused on the book. So when he walked through the front door and straight into the kitchen, the shriek he suddenly heard made him jump and drop his book.

"Oh  _ dios mio! _ ” she yelled, as Max’s book smacked to the floor.

Max just stared, slack jawed.

Liz was scrambling to reach for a shirt, which appeared to be nowhere near where she lay atop Kyle on the couch. He was also topless, which Max could barely process because Liz had  _ so much bare skin _ . 

At least summer afternoons at the community pool he was prepared for a half naked Liz. He certainly wasn't prepared to find her that way in his house. 

"Max," Kyle groaned, "Come on, bro! I thought you were going to be at the library all afternoon."

Max could barely even remember what he had discussed with Kyle, because all he could see was Liz's skin, and all he could feel was a heat boiling up inside of him. He was frozen in horror, a flush rising to his face, as he watched his brother and the girl he loved rushing around to find their clothes.

Liz finally located her shirt and was holding it over her chest. Which somehow gave Max enough brain capacity to choke out, "I...was done.”

"My room," Kyle directed to Liz, "Privacy, Max."

"Sorry, Max," Liz mumbled, clearly embarrassed, as she brushed past him, an apologetic hand brushing his arm as she passed. Her touch scorched his skin. 

He trembled, the pangs of unrequited love shattering through his heart. He distantly thought he heard the door to Kyle’s bedroom close behind them, but he was consumed by the fiery tornado that swirled inside of him. There was a low rattling sound building around him, the vibration of barely contained building energy causing the dishes in the kitchen to shudder. 

His only coherent thought was that he had to get out of the house before he destroyed something. 

He wrenched the back door open, and rushed into the backyard, as far as he could get from the house, before he collapsed to his knees. 

It was like a shockwave exploded from him, energy tearing from his cells and bursting outwards. He cried out, as he heard the sound of breaking glass, and in that moment he knew he had failed.

He was a wrecking ball, a bundle of destructive force that couldn't be contained—at least when Liz was around. Max simply knew, without a doubt, that if his parents weren't cops, he'd be locked up for this. It was what he deserved. Maybe it was where he belonged.

Trembling, Max pushed himself to his feet. He could feel tears wetting his cheeks. Angrily he brushed them away. Because of course, now that he had released his energy, he felt better. At least physically.

Emotionally though, he was a wreck. 

He hurried for the side gate, desperate to get away from his brother and Liz. 

As he passed Kyle's window, he heard Liz's voice call out from inside, "Another power outage? It's so weird how they keep happening!"

"The power company sucks," Kyle complained. "Someone should do something about it."

He was through the gate and running from the house before they said another word.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The other half of Max’s origin story only came out on those days when Jim took Max out to the desert alone. Nobody else knew this version. It goes like this.

Michelle was the deputy on duty when the call came in. She drove out to the desert, questioned the trucker, and then got on the radio and called the report in. Jim was sitting in the station listening to the dispatch, and froze at the sound of it. The GPS coordinates...that region of the desert...three children. He knew what that meant.

He was in his car before Michelle even finished speaking, heading swiftly out of town, north, towards Caulfield.

Jesse Manes was in Washington at the time, securing funding for Project Shepherd, so Jim was safe, knowing that he wouldn't be there to question Jim's actions.

He arrived at the prison, quickly barked out orders to have prisoner N39 brought to interrogation room NE15. A quick visit to the security room and a few clicks on the computer turned off the surveillance in the room. He dismissed the soldiers and entered the room, nodding a silent greeting to the old woman who sat there waiting. The door closed loudly behind him, and they were alone.

"Jim," she greeted him.

"Nora," he responded. 

"They're awake, aren't they?" she asked him.

"Three kids, found tonight wandering naked and alone in the desert. They don't seem to speak English or any other language. A trucker found them. They're safe and healthy. My wife has them."

"This place," Nora spit out, venom in her voice. "No windows, no calendars. If I had known the date I could have sent you to find them. I set their stasis to expire on a specific date. June 14, 1997. I told Tripp, but...he's gone, isn't he?"

"The story is that one of y'all killed him, but I don't believe that."

"What about Walt? He was a kid back when I knew him, but he should have long since grown up. I gave him a map to the pod cave. He wasn't there for them either?"

"They were alone, ma'am."

"Jim...they're going to be growing up alone in this strange world. My son, Louise's daughter...they will be okay. But the boy. He's...different, even from them. He's different from me. He's going to need kindness, steadiness. He's going to need guidance. Otherwise...all of this? It'll all be for nothing. He's the reason for all of this."

"I'll do what I can for him, but I have a cover to maintain too. Manes, the military men who follow him—they can never know about the children. Otherwise they'll be locked up right beside you. I must protect the children at all costs. Even if that means keeping them away from me."

"Thank you, Jim."

Jim needed to appear distant from the case to maintain his cover, so Michelle's dedication to it was a blessing. He took copious notes during her daily reports, trying to appear only professionally interested in seeing the case closed, even though he knew it never would be. In the case file he ensured it reflected an intense hunt for the perps. In a locked drawer he scribbled down details on the three kids: what they looked like, how they behaved...eventually he would take the notes back to Nora, once he was certain that the kids were heading to their final destination.

Michelle's reports concerned him though. Two of the children were adjusting well, with no sign of lingering trauma. They still didn't speak, but they were adjusting to the routine of a normal life.

The third though...the third little boy seemed like a wreck. He rarely slept, and when he did it was fitful and full of nightmares. He didn't speak. But he did scream. 

He screamed regularly. Fear and anger exploded incoherently from his lungs. He had behavioral problems. He refused to engage with the human children. 

Jim remembered Nora's warning about the kid and worried. The kid needed help. It was imperative that he got the support he needed. And as it became increasingly clear that Ann and Dave Evans were going to adopt the other two kids, Jim feared what would happen to the volatile child once he was left alone.

He had no idea that Michelle had grown so attached to the child, until the day that she brought him home with her. 

As she pleaded with him to allow them to take the boy in, Jim's mind raced as he tried to figure out if raising an alien son was something that he was capable of. He thought back to Nora's fears of the danger the boy would bring to the world if not raised to control himself. And Jim knew, inherently, that he had to try.

As he stood there and watched Kyle try to explain Mario Bros. to an alien kid that didn't speak a word of English, Jim felt his heart soften. Because the kid who had screamed at the group home any time a human child approached him...he was sitting shoulder to shoulder with Jim's son. He seemed to be listening intently, focused on the screen, as Kyle played.

His son, Kyle Valenti, was the first human kid to get anywhere with the boy.

"Yeah, okay. He can stay," he agreed with a smile.

"Max," Michelle responded. "At the group home they decided to call him Max."

"Max Valenti," Jim stated, like he was testing the name out on his tongue. "Yeah, that works."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Max rushed through the town, trying not to focus on signs of the power outage, but block by block, families were out in the street gossiping. Broken glass crunched beneath his sneakers as he passed the formerly alien-shaped street lights that had all burst because of him. With every passing block, he was more and more convinced that this was the final straw. He had never damaged half the city before. The consequences of his inability to control his powers had finally gone too far. 

He  _ should _ be locked up. For the good of the community. Maybe for the good of the planet. 

When he finally reached the sheriff's department, he paused outside of the double doors, hesitating momentarily, before taking a deep breath and going inside.

The phones were ringing off the hook, and the dispatchers were going from call to call, trying to keep up with all of the reports. He made his way back to the main room, where both his parents stood in front of a map, tacking up a perimeter that encompassed the calls being received. 

Max wondered if his mother noticed that their house was at the epicenter. He knew the sheriff would know. 

"It looks like, my God, a two and a half mile radius or so," his mother commented. "And all the power has surged out? In that entire area?"

"Go patrol, deputy," the sheriff directed. "See if anyone needs medical help. I'll hold down the fort here and handle the calls."

"Sheriff, the mayor's on the line," a dispatcher called out. 

"Send it to my office," Jim called back.

"Max!" It was then that his mother spotted him, "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," Max replied, his voice sounding dazed to his own ears, "I just...can I help?"

"My office," his father ordered. "I have to explain this to the mayor. You should listen in. Silently."

"Are you sure…" Michelle started to ask, but Jim quickly cut her off.

"Michelle, patrol," Jim ordered more firmly this time. "Max, my office."

"Yes sir," Max's mother responded dryly, clearly displeased with being so unceremoniously dismissed. Still, she followed orders and headed for the door.

Max followed his father without another word. The corner chair in the Sheriff's office was a familiar spot to him. It wasn't the first time he sat there, silently observing while his father managed some situation or another.

This time was different though. This time  _ he _ was the criminal perpetrator who should be arrested.

Jim didn’t read him his rights though. He just ignored Max, as he took phone call after phone call, taking notes and giving reports. Hours passed, and soon the phone calls slowed. Max heard his mother call on the dispatch that she was heading home. The sun set, and soon the town was eerily dark. Only then did Jim lead Max to his car.

Once Max was belted in, Jim tossed a bandana at Max. 

"Blindfold yourself," he ordered.

“What? Why?" Max asked, utterly confused by the direction. 

"I don't want you to see where we're going."

Max followed his father's instructions and tied the bandana around his face. Jim started the engine and began to drive.

"Where are we going?" Max asked. "What don't you want me to see "

"I was hoping we wouldn't have to do this for a while yet," Jim explained, his voice soft and sad, "But you caused too much damage this time, Max. I'm out of ideas on how to help you."

"I'm sorry…" Max protested, but Jim quickly hushed him.

"I need you to understand something, Max. The place I am taking you tonight is the most dangerous place on the planet for you. You must appear completely normal while we are there. Call no attention to yourself. If you fail to do this, we could lose you. Forever. Your life as you know it would be over. Do you hear me?"

"Dad, I…"

"Do you  _ HEAR _ me?" Jim repeated firmly, and this time, Max nodded frantically.

"Yes. Yes, I hear you. What's going on, dad? Where are we going?"

"Caulfield,” Jim answered. “We’re going to Caulfield.”


	3. Chapter 3

"Take off your blindfold. We're almost there," Jim ordered. 

Max swallowed nervously and quickly ripped it off. They were on a dark road in the desert without any street lights. There were no visible discerning landmarks. He had no idea where they were. 

Max looked at his father. Jim's jaw was clenched. They had been driving for over an hour and he had barely said a word. Max had never felt so unsure of what the man was going to do. It was clear that there would be consequences for Max's screw up, but he had no idea what his father had in mind for him.

"What's Caulfield?" Max asked. He winced at how shaky his voice sounded. He hated giving away just how frightened he was.

"It's a prison," Jim informed him, and Max's heart skipped a beat. His worst fear was coming true. His father was going to do it. He was finally going to lock Max up for the disaster he caused with his powers.

"It's off the books. Run by a secret government organization. I'm one of the only civilians with access." Jim turned to meet his eyes. Max’s own fear reflected back at him. “I'm sorry, son."

His eyes returned to the road, leaving Max's mind racing with confusion.

"I don't understand."

"It's a prison for aliens, Max. Every single prisoner in that building is like you."

"You're locking me up," Max exclaimed, certain that his father was confirming the fear that had been plaguing him all day.

"Max! No." Jim shook his head firmly. "No. You're my son. I would never…" Jim hesitated, and Max's eyes fell to the steering wheel, noting his white knuckles from clenching it so hard. "Max, you have every right to be angry with me after tonight. I've known about this place, with these prisoners, who are all people like you, since before you joined our family. I've betrayed you by keeping this a secret from you. But, son, it was for your safety."

Max didn't even know how to react. Of course he had guessed that if anyone survived the crash, that they'd been taken by the government. His very existence proved that many of the rumors about that night were true, which meant other things likely were too. Area 51, alien autopsies, other secret government studies, for instance. But never once had he considered that it might be this close to home...that his own father might be involved.

"I have very little control over what happens inside those walls," Jim continued to explain, his voice pleading with Max to understand. "Which is why I need you to do everything I say tonight. Your entire future depends on you not revealing what you are while we're inside those walls."

"What do you need me to do?" Max asked.

"First off, stay silent. Follow my lead. Don't speak to the guards or answer any questions unless I tell you it's okay. And most importantly, keep yourself under control. If your powers give you away, there is nothing I can do to protect you, Max."

“If it’s so dangerous, then why are you taking me there?"

"There’s a woman in there, a prisoner, who I think could help you. She's been giving me advice for years on managing your powers. I think after today's incident, maybe we need to reconsider our strategy. Maybe one-on-one, she can help you in a way that I can't."

As they approached the prison, Max felt his anxiety rising. Caulfield first appeared as a dull glow in the distance that grew larger and brighter with each passing mile. As they approached the outer gate, the spotlights were almost blinding. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt an overwhelming rush of fear and anger that he could barely control.

There was something _wrong_ with this place.

It was like at his very core he needed to run, hide, escape. Get away as fast as he could. Max clenched his fists and tried to stay calm.

At the gate Jim scanned a badge to give them access. The next security checkpoint was manned by a soldier. Jim handed him the badge, which the guard studied carefully. 

“And who is this?” the soldier asked, shining a flashlight into Max’s face. Max flinched, and tried not to otherwise react.

“This is my son. I’m bringing him in.”

“Has the Sergeant approved this?”

“I don’t answer to Jesse Manes. Have you forgotten that, soldier? I’m outside of your military chain of command.”

“Sir, yes sir!” The soldier saluted and retreated to open the gate for them. 

After they parked and entered the facility, another round of security checks followed, which Jim smoothly navigated. At the final checkpoint, once they were cleared, Jim barked orders to a soldier. 

“Have prisoner N39 brought to interrogation room NE15.”

As the soldier hurried off to follow Jim’s orders, Jim led Max into a room that just looked like a normal office. Jim made his way to one of the computers, and quickly clicked some buttons. Max just stood awkwardly by the door, shifting his feet and trying desperately not to run for the car. It was like a tidal wave of suffering was overwhelming all of his senses. Pain, screaming, rage...he wanted to cover his ears, close his eyes, shut it out somehow, but he couldn’t. Because it was all coming from inside his head.

"...Max!" Jim was calling his name. Startled, Max focused on his father. Jim looked concerned. "Are you okay?" 

Max silently nodded in response, but he knew he was lying. "I don't like this place," he conceded to his father. It was all he could think to say, but also felt like an enormous understatement for what he was feeling. Jim just put a hand on his shoulder in response, squeezing gently.

"Let's go. She'll be waiting."

Jim led Max out of the office and down a long corridor. There were a number of closed doors along the hallway marked with various combinations of letters and numbers. Jim stopped towards the end of the corridor in front of a door marked NE15.

"Here we go," he said softly to Max, before scanning his badge and pushing open the door. 

Two soldiers stood in the room, standing flanking what appeared to be an ancient person, who sat handcuffed to a chair, head slumped and eyes closed. There was no acknowledgement of their presence.

"Dismissed!" Jim ordered.

"But, sir…" one of the soldiers protested.

"Do I need to remind you who I am?" Jim asked. His voice was dark, threatening. The soldier saluted and the two men left the room, leaving Max and Jim alone with the prisoner. Jim had trailed them to the door and hit a few buttons on a keypad.

"Just making sure we aren't disturbed," Jim explained, but Max barely acknowledged that his father spoke. Because he was staring at the alien—the woman—in the room with them. 

Her head lifted once the soldiers were gone and a pair of piercing blue eyes, sharp and coherent were boring into him. He held her gaze, but it was hard. It felt like she was looking right inside of him, picking him apart piece by piece. 

Almost as if she sensed his discomfort, she gave him a half smile, and he suddenly felt a comforting warmth rush over him. Max narrowed his eyes. It was her...she was somehow trying to soothe his fear. Intrigued, Max took a seat at the table opposite her.

"Max, I'd like you to meet Nora. Nora is a survivor of the 1947 crash," Jim introduced, as made his way around the table to her, reached down, and carefully uncuffed her.

Her hands free, she quickly reached across the table and took Max's hands. Her ancient hands were cold, wrinkled, and Max found himself trying to recoil instinctively, but Nora held his hands tightly, as continued to silently stare into Max's eyes.

He didn't quite understand what was happening, but he could feel a...greeting? Relief, to see him alive and healthy. Hope...there was so much hope emanating from her, but Max couldn't begin to process it.

"I'm sorry," Max said to her. "I don't...I don't really understand."

Jim sat in an empty chair beside Max.

"Nora, out loud, please," Jim requested. "I need to hear whatever you tell my son."

"Of course," Nora agreed. Her voice was unsteady, like it hadn't been used in a long time. "I apologize. When I see one of us, it's easy to fall into old habits. It's wonderful to see you again, Max."

"Again?" Max asked, confused.

"You don't remember your life before the crash?" Max shook his head silently. "I see. That's probably for the best. You don't want to remember." 

"Nora is the only prisoner here that speaks any English," Jim explained.

"I lived in this world for a year after the crash," Nora told him. "Then they found me and locked me up in this place." 

A furious undertone was evident in her voice, and Max could understand why. If she was only free for a year after the crash then she had been locked up for nearly 60 years. It was a miracle she was even still alive and coherent. 

"Since then she's had a few secret allies in this place trying to help. I'm the latest," Jim continued. "Nora and I have been meeting like this for years, whenever it's safe."

"I'm the reason you're here, Max. We rescued you, and brought you with us onto the ship. We put you into the stasis pods, on a 50 year timer. We hoped that we could come back for you before then, but in case we couldn't, we wanted you to be safe and free of the suspicion that we dealt with after the crash."

"Who is ‘we’?" Max asked. "Do I...are my birth parents prisoners here?"

"No. You don't…" Nora started to say, but Jim cut her off.

"Enough. Time is limited and we need to address the problem at hand."

"Oh?" Nora asked, studying Max carefully.

Max fidgeted in his chair. "I…uh...I'm having trouble controlling my powers. And it's getting worse."

"If we can't figure out how to get a handle on it, Max will be exposed," Jim added. "After today's incident there is a very real danger of that."

"Tell me more," Nora insisted, her eyes piercing into Max's, “What does it feel like?”

"It's hard to explain," Max protested. "It's like, there's this rush of energy inside of me, and it's slowly building. And then it’s like...I dunno...it just...explodes. It becomes like a tornado inside of me. And I can't control it. I just have to release it.”

"Is there a trigger?” Nora pressed. “What's the catalyst for the acceleration?"

Max felt the heat rise into his cheeks. He spent so much time hiding his feelings for Liz. Trying to explain it to someone who was virtually a stranger, in front of his dad… "It's...a girl," Max admitted. "Is this…is it like alien hormones or something causing this?"

Nora smiled, her demeanor softening. "Oh, Max. Maybe. Can you explain more please? What does it feel like?"

"I don't...I just…every time I see her I try to center myself first. But it's like it doesn't even matter. The tension inside of me is just overwhelming. And then, like today, she barely touched my arm and it was enough to make me lose all control."

"Max, that couldn't be all that caused it," Jim protested. "It hasn't been that long since the last incident and you've weathered far worse."

"I…" Max hesitated, flushed and embarrassed. "She was…" 

"Spit it out, son," Jim urged impatiently. 

"I walked in on her and Kyle, okay?" Max finally spit out. "Please don't...Kyle will know I'm the one who told. It's fine." Max swiftly turned his attention to Nora. "Did I mention she's dating my brother?"

"Oh." Nora's eyes narrowed and Max could sense her concern. "Max, what do you dream about? What do you think about at night, when you...you know..." 

Max flushed and buried his face in his hands.

"Please, Max, answer me," Nora pleaded with him.

He peeked his eyes up and met hers, trying desperately not to look at his father.

"Her," Max answered softly, his voice barely audible. "Only her. Always her."

Nora nodded. Max slouched down again, absolutely horrified that he had to admit that out loud.

"Jim, I think I know what's going on here," Nora told his father, "But I need to check to see if I'm right. I won't tell him anything without you hearing, I just need to check something, inside of him, to confirm my hypothesis."

"Okay," Jim conceded, but his eyes narrowed and he was watching Nora carefully. It was clear that he only trusted her to a point, and his protectiveness over Max was far stronger.

Nora held out her hands again to Max. This time, she waited for him to hesitantly take them.

"It's okay, Max," Nora told him soothingly. They made eye contact and then, it was like Max felt her slip inside of his mind again. She continued to try to comfort him, but now that their minds were connected, it was as if she was able to slip those feelings into his like a balm on his anxiety, which slowly dissipated. Feeling comforted, he relaxed and surrendered to her mental probing. It felt like only a moment, maybe two, and then she dropped his hands and the connection was broken. The anxiety and panic immediately rushed back into him, and he shuddered at the sensation.

Max turned to look at his father, but Jim wasn't sitting beside him anymore. He was pacing back and forth nervously by the door.

"Dad?" Max asked, unsettled by the change in his father.

"Finally!" Jim exclaimed. "We're almost out of time. What do you think, Nora? We only have a few minutes before the guards come back."

"Liz is a beautiful girl," Nora told Max with a smile. "And her brain! She has an incredible future ahead of her."

"You saw all that inside of me?" Max gaped.

"Liz Ortecho's aura is so interwoven with yours, it's almost impossible to tell them apart. It's clear that you have her imprinted into your soul."

"Imprinted? What are you talking about?"

"It happens to some of us. Not all of us. I've only seen it a handful of times, and never fused together quite like this. How long have you felt this way about her?"

"As long as I can remember. Since the day I met her. Nearly 10 years," Max explained. "What...what does this mean?"

"It means that she's a part of you, Max. She's your person. Your energy, your essence is directly affected by her presence in your life. When you are around her, the imprint of her on your soul, for lack of a better word, electrifies. The piece of her inside of you wants to connect, to merge with its other half."

"Are you saying that all this chaos is because…my powers get excited around Liz?"

"Essentially. Those quick touches from her? They're like a match in a gasoline tank. The erratic nature of your powers is tied directly to that unfulfilled need for her. And there's only two ways to control it...either she needs to ease it for you, or you must stay away from her. If the status quo continues, eventually, your worst fears will come to pass."

"We're out of time," Jim interrupted insistently. "We've gotta go, otherwise Manes will know."

Max, obedient as always, stood and backed away from the table. Jim hurried over and cuffed Nora back to the chair. "I'm so sorry," he murmured to her.

"Max!" Nora called out to him. Max paused at the door, looking back at her. "I hope for your sake that she eventually chooses to love you back. Otherwise, you will continue to long for her. Always." 

Max nodded, gave her a sad smile, and then he and Jim left the room.

Max didn't really remember much over the next few minutes. He was in a daze, trying to process everything he had just learned about himself, about his feelings for Liz. Plus he was still trying to wrap his mind around the existence of an alien prison--one that his father was somehow involved with.   


Nevermind that he had just met an  _ actual _ _survivor_ of the crash. 

Max wasn't sure what to make of any of it. He was exhausted from the onslaught of pain and fear overwhelming his psyche. It was all more than he could handle. When they were back in the patrol car, Max slouched low in his seat, resting his head against the car door, and closed his eyes. He just needed rest.

This time Jim didn't need to blindfold him. By the time the dirt access road smoothed out and they approached the highway, Max was fast asleep.


	4. Chapter 4

The quiet startled Max awake.

The dull roar of the engine and the steady vibration of the tires against the highway had kept him lulled and comfortable for the entire drive.

Now, with the engine off, Max stretched, opened his eyes, and surveyed their surroundings.

They were home. The porch light was on, welcoming their return. Which meant the power was restored sometime while they were gone. The rest of the house was blanketed in shadows. It was late, and Kyle and Michelle had clearly gone to bed.

Jim had parked in the driveway, his keys in hand, but otherwise he hadn't moved. Max, on the other hand, immediately reached for the door, but his father stopped him.

"Max. You need to hear a few things before we go inside. I owe you that much." 

Max froze, letting his hand drop from the door handle, and waited for his father to say more.

"I don't need to tell you that you can't ever speak about what you learned tonight, right? Your life depends on your...biology...remaining a secret."

"I got it," Max responded shortly. He didn't need the same old 'control yourself' lecture again. If anything, Nora had proven that it wasn't something he had a whole lot of say in. Frustrated, he made a move to leave again, but Jim kept talking.

"Max, I need to tell you about Project Shepherd. It all started the night you crashed here, in 1947. That night, my grandfather, Hector Valenti, was one of the first responders on site after the crash. And he never returned home from the incident. That was the night my grandfather was murdered by aliens…"

~*~*~*~*~*~

Kyle’s version of Max’s story was the most straightforward, of course, since like Max, he was seven years old at the time. The world is pretty uncomplicated for a normal, human kid at that age.

The way Kyle remembers it, Max came home with his mom one day. His parents sent Max into Kyle's bedroom and asked Kyle to play with him for a bit. So Kyle turned on his Nintendo, his newest and most prized possession, and he booted up Mario. He tried to explain the game to Max, the story, who was good, and who was bad, how the controller worked, and all of his favorite stuff. Max was pretty quiet through it all. 

When his parents came back to check on them, they told Kyle that Max was going to be his new brother. They told Kyle that he was a special boy with no parents and that, as his big brother, it would be Kyle’s job to look out for him. 

Life is pretty simple for a seven year old. Kyle said okay and never questioned it. He was just excited to have someone around all the time to be Luigi.

And just like that, they were brothers.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was midday that Sunday when Kyle knocked on the frame of Max’s door. 

“Dude, you busy?”

Max looked up from his copy of Great Expectations. “What’s up?”

“Mario?”

Max set his book down, face first, on the bed. “Yeah, sure.” He rolled from his bed and followed Kyle to his room. 

Some things didn’t change, even with the passing of ten years. Kyle still had the same old school Nintendo in his bedroom. Michelle had rescued it from a thrift shop when Kyle was still an only child, just a few weeks before Max joined their family. When she brought it home, Michelle made him promise to take good care of it and the handful of games that came with it. Ever since, it had been Kyle’s prized possession.

It was still plugged into an old box television in Kyle’s bedroom, the tv so old and worn that the Mario logo had been burned into the screen from overuse. Kyle still played the same way he had as a kid--sitting on his bedroom floor, back resting against his bed. When Max joined him, it was like a mirror image of the day they met. Two boys, sitting shoulder to shoulder as they played.

Kyle always was Mario, and Max was always Luigi. It’s the way things always had been, and always would be. And Max didn’t mind. Not really. He had spent his entire life trailing behind his gregarious brother, riding his coattails to social engagements, youth sports, and cub scouts. 

It was only in high school that Max began to realize that he was much happier alone with a book than playing baseball. He begged his parents to let him drop out of sports, and his parents, thankfully, listened and agreed. Of course, that was also around the same time that his powers started manifesting, so avoiding situations where his blood pressure was high, particularly in aggressive, man-to-man sports like basketball, was both a preference and a necessity.

Max knew, inherently, that it was the first of a long line of life decisions that forced the two brothers to grow apart. But the nail in the coffin of their childhood closeness, of course, was when Kyle asked Liz out. 

It had been months since they had sat together, alone, like this. 

“Look, I’m sorry about yesterday,” Kyle threw out to him as they played. Max froze, not expecting Kyle to bring that up. A turkey ran into Luigi and the game beeped out its musical notification that Max had lost a life.

“It was severely uncool of me to just assume that you wouldn’t be coming home. My fault, man. Not yours.”

“It’s...it’s okay,” Max choked out.

“Liz is really embarrassed. Please don’t be too hard on her tomorrow. I know you guys are friends.”

“Yeah,” Max responded, hoping desperately that it would be enough to end the conversation. Thankfully, Kyle fell silent. They played a couple of levels in silence.

“Any word from Michigan?” Max asked. It had been a while since he had heard Kyle talk about his college plans.

“Nah, man, not yet. I swear they’re just trying to drag out making a final decision. But with the coaching change and all, things are just kind of up in the air. Still hoping Rodriguez will give me a chance. For now, I’m still on the waiting list while he assesses the team.”

“I hope you get in,” Max told him, genuinely meaning it. “I know how much you want this. You deserve a shot.”

“Thanks, dude.” The room was silent for a few minutes, except for the sound of the beeping Mario theme song. 

“What about you?” Kyle suddenly asked, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Max retorted, confused by the vague question.

“I mean, you’ve been helping me with my college applications, listening to me moan about Michigan. But I don’t think I’ve heard you talk about yourself even once. What are you gonna do next year?”

“I dunno,” Max admitted. “Maybe some online writing classes? Either that or I’m gonna go to the Academy. Dad really wants me to join the force.”

“You don't want to get out of here? Go to college, see what life outside of Roswell is like?”

Max pondered his brother’s words for a few minutes, trying to figure out how to answer him. Kyle didn’t know the truth about Max, so he couldn’t possibly understand why Max may want to stay close to home. He didn't get that Roswell was the only place where he may someday find answers about his past. The motivation to stay was only increasing, especially now that he knew answers lay just over an hour drive away, in a desert prison full of people like him. 

A chill rushed through him at the memory of the night before. Running would be smarter. Significant danger also came with the potential for those answers. The feeling of the other aliens suffering in that horrifying place was still raw and terrifying. He never, ever wanted to suffer like that.

If he went away, he’d be more likely to find safety, somewhere far away from Roswell. But, given the unstable nature of his powers, was safety even possible anywhere? Was he doomed to eventually be caught, trapped, and tortured? 

Max tried to push the fear away, but he stayed cold and uneasy. Leaving would be smarter, but he couldn't do it. He needed to stay.

"Look, you can't get what you need if you stay in Roswell. And I can't get what I need if I leave,” Max finally told him.

"What's that?"

"I dunno,” Max admitted with a sigh, searching his mind for something he could tell his brother. “Answers, maybe? The truth about what happened to me when I was a kid. If I'm ever gonna find out who I am, the answers can only be found here."

"Yeah, I guess,” Kyle agreed, but he sounded thoughtful. “Hell, I can’t blame you for that, but Max? You know who you are. The assholes that dumped you out in the desert don't define you, okay?”

"Yeah," Max mumbled. But Kyle's words made him smile, just a bit. He suddenly wanted to do something kind for his brother. Something to thank him for telling Max exactly what he needed to hear in that moment.

"Hey, Kyle?” Max suddenly said, determined all to do right by his brother. “Look, I don't know much about the world outside of Roswell, but...whatever...let me give you some advice. When you talk to college coaches? Don't wear your high school letterman jacket. They'll just write you off as a stereotypical high school football douchebag. And you're not, okay? You're better than that. So don't let them put you in that box."

Kyle shook his head and grinned. "Thanks, Max."

"Yeah."

A few more levels were defeated before they were interrupted by Jim poking his head into the room.

"Hey kids, I gotta make a run down to Lake Arthur, drop off some supplies to the city police. There's a free lunch at Kith and Kin for whoever wants to keep me company on the drive.”

“Make it pizza at Piccolino’s and I’m in,” Kyle countered, as he paused the game and switched off the tv.

“You’re on,” Jim agreed. “Max? You coming?”

“Nah, have fun,” Max sighed. “I’ve got homework.”

“Your loss, bro,” Kyle responded with a roll of his eyes.

“Yeah,” Max agreed dryly, as he pushed to his feet and headed back to his room. He left the door open and listened. Kyle and their dad were chattering away as they got ready to go. 

“Last chance, Max!” Jim called out from the front door, as they headed out. 

“I’m good!” Max responded.

He waited until the sound of the car engine faded away, before he grabbed his phone and started scrolling through the contacts, looking for the one, rarely-used number that he needed. He hit the call button, and waited as the phone rang, hoping desperately that he’d answer.

When a gruff voice answered, Max breathed a sigh of relief.

"Michael. It's Max. Don't hang up, please?"

"What do you want?" Michael demanded to know.

"Look, I need to talk to you and Isobel. It's important. Please. Can you meet me out by the cave?"

"I dunno," Michael responded. "What cave?"

"You know.  _ Our _ cave."

"Is it about…"

"Yeah," Max insisted, hoping they were on the same page.

"We can't. Family stuff."

"Well, what about tomorrow?" Max pleaded. "After school?"

Michael was quiet for a long moment before finally agreeing.

"Good," Max replied, relieved. "Thank you. I'll see you there."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Max almost cut class for the first time that Monday.

There were so many things weighing on his mind, and anticipation for his meeting with Michael and Isobel had him on edge. He kept playing scenarios in his head of what he wanted to tell them, and how they might react. At lunch time he spotted them sitting together on the other side of the cafeteria. They were staring at him, and Isobel had a weird look on her face that left him feeling unsettled. He prayed that they would hear him out.

But it wasn't just Michael and Isobel. It was the impending Biology period that had Max truly wanting to run for the hills. He really didn't know how he was going to face Liz after learning the truth from Nora. 

Liz didn't ask for this. She had no idea that an alien had  _ imprinted _ on her as a child and now couldn't control his superpowers because his love for her was so overwhelming that it rendered his weird alien hormones out of control. Plus he couldn't even begin to explain any of this to her, because the first step would be,  _ hi, Liz, I'm an alien. You know, like from outer space? Oh and I love you. _

Telling her  _ that _ was impossible.

He wanted to walk right out of school. Head to the desert cave, hide out, and wait for Michael and Isobel. He'd take the punishment for cutting class...detention, suspension, being grounded, whatever...so long as he didn't have to face Liz.

But he couldn't do it. 

He couldn't skip class. He couldn't  _ abandon _ Liz. He was her lab partner. She relied on him. And he loved her too much to ditch her like that. So he walked into the Bio lab. Just like he always did. 

She didn't have her nose buried in a book this time. When he walked in, she was sitting straight up in her chair, watching the door. Waiting for him. 

Max sucked in a nervous breath as their eyes met. And then he quickly looked down at his feet and shuffled across the room to sit beside her.

"Max!" Her voice sounded little too perky, like she was trying to mask her own nervousness. "I just wanted to...are you okay? I haven't seen you since…" her voice trailed off. 

When he didn't immediately reply, she reached out towards where his hand rested on the desk, but before she could cover it with her own comforting touch, he pulled his hand out of her reach. He couldn't handle her touching him right now. Hands folded in his lap, he turned to look at her.

"It's okay, Liz. Forget about it."

"I was thinking about you all weekend and...I dunno, Max. I realized something."

"What's that?" Max asked distantly.

"I guess I just realized for the first time how similar we are. You're the good kid in your family. You're the one who has to always be perfect. Like me. Kyle's allowed to screw up, but you're not, are you?"

Max narrowed his eyes. She had no idea how much of a screw up he really was. "I don't think it's that simple, Liz," he finally said. He stared down at the lab desk instead of at her, utterly exhausted by how wrong she was, and how there was no possible way for him to explain it all to her.

"Well, it's just like...what happened this weekend. You were studying alone on a Saturday while Kyle and I were making out, and…"

"Please stop," Max begged, cutting her off. "Please don't talk about you and Kyle to me. I just… I can't…" he looked up and met her eyes.

_ It was a mistake _ . 

Her eyes widened and she sucked in a breath. Max winced and ripped his eyes away. Focusing back on the lab desk, as a panic rose in his chest.

_ She saw it _ . 

He never wanted her to see everything he felt for her in his eyes. He never wanted her to know just how much her decision to date his brother hurt him. She owed him nothing.

After a long awkward silence, she spoke again. "It just reminded me of Rosa. You know, no one expects anything of her and she can get away with anything. Like last week, she disappeared without a word. She hasn't come home yet. My  _ Papi _ is worried sick about her. But when she comes home in a few days they'll shout at each other for a bit and it'll be like nothing happened. But if it was me that disappeared I'd be in so much more trouble. Because I'm the good kid, right? So they expect better of me. I was thinking it must be similar for you and Kyle."

"I'm not the good kid, Liz," Max argued. "You're wrong."

Before she could respond, the teacher called the class to attention, and just like that it was over. Class was all business for the rest of the period, and when the bell rang, Max rushed from the room before Liz could say another word to him.

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a note, I sort of loosely based the training scene between Max and Jim on the SMART Recovery program, a non-religious based addiction recovery program I found online. The idea being that Jim would use what he learned in recovery to help Max. I sort of revised the four steps from the program to fit Max’s situation.
> 
> https://www.verywellmind.com/a-review-of-the-smart-recovery-program-22406


End file.
